Remember You're a Womble
by In To The West Away
Summary: It's a peaceful afternoon in the Auror Office when Benjy Fenwick starts musing on the oddities of wizarding music. The consequences are a little bizarre to say the least... (Basically, a bit of pure music-based crack set in the late 1970s. I couldn't help myself.)


For a Wednesday morning, the Headquarters of the Auror Office were unusually quiet. Benjy Fenwick knew that this was because there was a training course on Inferi that they had all been "advised" to attend, but he had instead decided that the time would be better spent reading up on the nesting habits of miniature puffskeins. And he was by no means the only one. Complaining that Moody had already given them the Inferi lecture too many times to count, Marlene McKinnon had also stayed behind, and was flipping contentedly through a brochure entitled "What the Well-Dressed Witch is Wearing This Winter". Over in the corner, meanwhile, Gawain Robards was busy organising Amelia Bones' official correspondence for the umpteenth time. And, up until about five minutes ago, some Prewetts had also been loitering suspiciously near the window, until they had fled noisily from the room, yelling something that sounded a bit like "Murder Muriel!"- though Benjy wasn't sure whether that was their goal or simply another nickname for their terrifying aunt.

And so there was peace, perfect peace. But it was probably too good to last, and Benjy was proved right thirty seconds later when Caradoc Dearborn, of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, strode in. Suppressing a groan, Benjy began to hunt around for his earplugs. Much to his astonishment, however, Marlene did not automatically bristle but instead looked up and addressed the newcomer in an almost civil manner. "You finished it then?"

"Yes thank you," Dearborn said politely, holding out a record sleeve. "Thought you'd like it back."

"And what did you think?"

"It's very… you." He answered cautiously. "I don't mean that in a bad way- I liked it, but the bagpipe solos were maybe a bit too much."

_This is it,_ A little voice in Benjy's head muttered. _This is the point she gets angry._

But once again Marlene surprised him. "Ah well, I did think- after I listened to yours that is- that you'd prefer something a bit less out there. Should have given you their first album, they weren't so crazy then."

"Did you finish with Simon and Garfunkel then?"

"Not quite yet. Could I have another listen? I liked that one about the silence or whatever-"

"Sound of Silence? Didn't think that would be quite your style." Dearborn said, but followed it up with- was that a smile Benjy could see? He nearly hit the floor when, rather than taking it badly, Marlene actually gave a snort of laughter. "Well, I never got anywhere by whispering. Anyway, I'll get it back to you tomorrow if that's alright."

"Oh no, keep it for as long as you like." Dearborn began to back out of the office, looking a bit awkward. "Sorry to have disturbed you all."

"Bye!" Marlene raised a hand in his direction and then turned back to her work. "Something funny there Robards?"

The auror hastily turned his laugh into a cough. Benjy, meanwhile, had drifted off. "Is all wizarding music so weird?" He asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Wizarding music. It's a bit- odd."

Marlene sat back in her chair and folded her arms, frowning in confusion. "How d'you mean?"

"Well, all they sing about is magic. And there's so much focus on magical creatures. Like- what's that one the Wailing Banshees covered- "Do the Hippogriff"? You don't hear muggle songs listing dogs and tigers and zebras."

"The Hippogriff's a dance, loads of bands cover it. It's been around forever. There's a special dance and everything- that's why they list all those creatures."

"Like the Slosh?"

"The what?"

"It's a dance, my mum used to do it at weddings when she'd had a bit too much." Benjy winced slightly at the memory.

"Yeah, a bit like that. So you can't just use the Hippogriff as an example."

"But it's not just the Hippogriff- there's tonnes of songs that do nothing but mention magic. Go on, how many of the chart-toppers at the moment have nothing to do with magic?"

Marlene looked a little miffed at being asked a question, but sat back to think. "I don't really know what's in the charts at the moment. Ah! What about "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love"?"

"Still magic."

"Is not."

"For you maybe. Muggles don't use cauldrons in their everyday lives."

Marlene scowled. She didn't like losing arguments. "Muggle songs are just as bad, Fenwick. I'll prove it to you."

"Oh if you like," Benjy was a little surprised at this vow, his mind now drifting back in the direction of miniature puffskeins. "I was only saying."

"Yeah, well, you just wait."

* * *

By Friday, Benjy had completely forgotten the entire affair. Marlene, however, was not so easy to throw off, and halfway through lunch she appeared in front of his desk, nearly squashing several pygmy puffs as she dumped the record down in front of him. "There!" She said triumphantly. Benjy looked at her in confusion. Marlene sighed and waved her hands at the record. "I told you I was going to prove that muggle songs are just as weird as you seem to think wizarding ones are! Look!"

A tad intimidated now, Benjy glanced down. Two minutes later he was sitting with his head in hands, almost crying with laughter. Marlene, a little taken aback by this outburst from her normally inscrutable colleague, was staring at him with a mixture of worry and annoyance. "What?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips. "What's so bloody funny?"

But Benjy couldn't answer her and buried his head in his arms, sniggering. The scene was so strange that even Alastor Moody paused as he passed on his way out to eat. "Something funny there McKinnon? What's this?" He tugged the record out from under Benjy's shaking frame. "Should we be looking into these- Wombles? Look like funny characters to me. Fenwick!"

Oh, it was too much. Benjy wheezed his apologies as he ran from the room to collapse, laughing hysterically, against the bathroom wall, much to the consternation of the Minister for Magic and Mr Crouch, who had been inspecting the nearby Improper Use of Magic Office as he raced past the door. On their way out, they called in at the Auror Office, where Marlene and Moody were still clustered in confusion around the record, now along with around half the department.

"Alastor, would you mind explaining why Fenwick is racing around the corridors screaming like a lunatic?" Crouch inquired coldly. His lecture on the importance of flushing out the department's regurgitating toilets had been spoilt and he was not best pleased.

"Bit of a ruckus. Something to do with this lot- Wombles or something," Moody waved the record in the air, before scrutinising it again. "Might be it's cursed." He gave it a shake as John Dawlish asked. "Should we get Fenwick a healer?"

"Did you say Wombles, Moody?" The Minister suddenly asked, sounding a little faint. Crouch glanced at him warily, wondering if Fenwick's infection was catching. "Not as in 'Remember You're a Womble?'"

"Yes sir, but don't worry we'll-"

"No, no," The Minister waved a hand at him absent-mindedly. "No, I'm quite sure it's harmless. Come along Barty, I have work to do." He staggered out of the room again, and, after giving the employees of the Auror Office one last glare, Crouch followed.

It wasn't thirty seconds before a great roar of laughter echoed back through the door, and the entire Department jumped. "The Wombles!" They heard the Minister wheeze, as Crouch barked orders to fetch a healer. "The Wombles!"

It took them half an hour to coax Benjy back to his desk, a dreamy grin fixed across his face. As for the Minister for Magic, who had that very morning frightened a Daily Prophet reporter out of her wits with a look and who made it his personal business to snarl menacingly at junior assistants at least once a day, a strange humour appeared to have come over him. Every so often he would lift his head from his work and stare into space, muttering, "The Wombles- that's quite brilliant" before chuckling to himself and carrying on as usual.

The story soon made the rounds at the Ministry and for the next few hours muggleborn witches and wizards had to excuse themselves as they giggled and hooted and howled for some reason that they refused to explain. Ted Tonks of the Department of Magical Games and Sports had to beg leave to go home after he was nearly sick through laughing so much. Caradoc Dearborn broke down in front the middle of his office and Cordelia Savage had to carry him out, all the while trying to stifle her own sniggers. The whole thing proved entirely harmless, however, and was almost completely forgotten by the next week.

Ignoring Marlene's entreaties that she had spent good money on it, Moody spent the next hour locked up in an interrogation room, flinging Reductor curses and Blistering hexes at the record. Just to be sure.

.

.

* * *

_**Yeah, so this is what I've been giggling over whilst procrastinating over coursework and finishing off my other fics. It might not make all that much sense to some, but it's a bit of crack based in the world of a series of stories I've currently got under works about the Auror Office during the First War. **_

_**Hope it gave you a laugh at least!**_


End file.
